


Do I Know You?

by debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Past Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: Two years after the untimely death of Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, and Bucky Barnes get a little too drunk and perform a ritual at Steve’s graveside.  The following morning, they have more than hangovers to deal with – they’ve brought Steve back to life!  But it’s not all roses and sparkly balloons – Steve’s husband, Tony Stark, has remarried and this time it’s for keeps, and Steve’s business has all but gone under, held afloat solely by the sheer will of Steve’s best friend, none other than Bucky Barnes.Steve has to learn how to rejoin the living in a world that’s passed him by. But could his miracle be short-lived?Loosely inspired by the 1987 dramedy/fantasy,Hello Again.





	1. Fourth Dimension

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was not one of the first new standalone stories selected in the vote I held last month, but it suddenly occurred to me that I had nearly 6,000 words written of it, and I really do kind of like this story, even if it was not claimed by any artist in the Stucky Big Bang. Also, yesterday was the anniversary of a real-life passing in my life, and I think I need to work on this because the outcome will be happier. I'm still working on the selections - I wrote around 2,000 words of By Royal Decree tonight! - but I will be playing with this story in between, I think.

This day and age we're living in  
Gives cause for apprehension  
With speed and new invention  
And things like fourth dimension.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how he ended up here, the damp seeping into his ass, his ass almost numb with the cold, a bottle of ouzo fracturing into lots of tiny little bottles as he squinted and strained to see straight.  But the ouzo.  Yeah, the ouzo.  And the vodka.  And the rum.  And he thought there might be some Everclear, too.  He was drunk _on his ass_ , he tittered to himself.  Because he was sitting, _on his ass_.   Drunk.

In a graveyard.

At midnight.

Under a clear full moon and a starlit sky.

On the second anniversary of his best friend’s death.

At his grave.

Spouting nonsense into the dark, with bundles of herbs dotting the plot, decorating the headstone, hanging from his neck, and wafting, burning, through the air as Wanda chanted and sang and shouted and wailed.  And Natasha danced and danced and danced, her tiny feet leaving no trace on the hard ground as she spun and leapt and pirouetted in place.

Dance with me, James, she urged.

He shook his head.  He couldn’t dance.  Because he was sitting on his ass.  And he was drunk.  So very, very drunk.

And missing his best friend.  Aching with the emptiness where _he_ should be.  Years growing up together, facing puberty, acne, and breakups together, going to college together, and finally building a business together.  They’d always been together, except when they weren’t.  He felt like his soul was crying out, reaching for its better half. 

He’d been crying for two years.  And Wanda and Natasha had had enough.  Enough! they’d cried.  Let’s do something.

So here they were, in the graveyard.  At midnight.  At his best friend’s grave.  _Doing something._

&&&

“Here,” Wanda’s voice croaked harshly.  “Water and aspirin.  You’re gonna need them.”

He heard the thud of the glass being placed on his bedside table, but the pounding in his head, the shattering of his skull, and the roiling of his stomach held him captive, a prisoner in his own body.

He hated hangovers.

He especially hated hangovers that weren’t fun to get.  And last night … last night hadn’t been fun.

He felt the grief welling up inside again, a crashing wave threatening to breach his defenses and pull him under.

It was tempting to just let go, let the undertow drag him down, tumbling, tumbling, out to sea, where oblivion beckoned so seductively.

But he’d made a promise.  A deathbed promise.  To not give up.  To keep the business, to keep their dream, going, thriving, growing.  To keep the team together, and to make a future.  To let it lead him to realizing his own dreams.

But not today.

Today, the boss was calling in comatose.  The kids could handle it for a day without him.  Hell, Darcy practically ran the place anyway.  He just signed checks and wrote the occasional script.  He was never the creative force behind Rogers-Barnes Studios.  

That had always been Steve.

It was always Steve.

But Steve had been gone for two years.  Two years today. 

Bucky gave the business everything he had left.  It was just too bad that Steve had taken so much of him with him when he’d died.  The day they’d buried Steve Rogers was the day that Bucky Barnes had buried his heart.  When Steve’s heart had given out, when it had stopped beating, that’s when Bucky’s had stilled, too.  Silent and cold and empty.

He had no dreams left, only memories.  And regrets.

Rogers-Barnes Studios had been their dream, first as teenagers, then as college students, and still as adults.  And they’d worked their asses off, did a GoFundMe, hocked everything they could to get the seed money to make it a reality.  An animation studio of their own, where they could create art and moments of joy.

Steve had been the art.  And the joy had died with him.  But they had a great team of artists, techs, and writers, so the company had endured.  Mostly they did commercial stuff now, and they were developing a niche in restoration and bridging animation.  Some credits work.  But that feature they’d hoped to create, get into theatres, and win an Oscar?  The storyboards were vaulted, preserved for a future Bucky wasn’t sure would ever come around.  Preserved for when he could look at them and not weep, not feel his chest crushed under the weight of missing his best friend.  But preserved nonetheless.

He was about to pick up the phone to call in, to let Darcy know he wasn’t coming in and to just let the team continue working on whatever they had going, when the phone rang, beating him to the punch.

It was Darcy.  Okay, well, yeah, that was weird.

“Hello?”

“Boss man, you gotta get your cutie patootie in here pronto.  There is someone here you gotta see.”

&&&

 “It can’t be.”

“This is some dumbfuck’s idea of a fucking sick joke.”

“Who’s cruel enough to do something like this?”

“I find the cocksucker that put this poor guy up to this, I’m feeding him his balls.”

“Feed him?  I plan to hang him with them, darling.”

“Guys, put a sock in it.  Bucky’s on his way in.  Today of all days this Guy has to show up.  You know what Bucky’s like – he’s gonna need your support.  Like, right fucking now.”  She nodded toward the front of reception, where Bucky could be seen through the glass doors exiting the elevator.  “Cheese it, guys – get back to work.  And make sure that the Guy doesn’t get out of the conference room!”

Just then, Bucky came through the front doors of the office suite, looking like he’d been dragged across the city behind a team of Clydsdales.  Darcy hurried forward, thrusting a steaming coffee cup into his hands, and guided him into his office, pulling the door closed behind her.  All the doors had glass inserts, so there really wasn’t much happening about privacy, but at least she could give him a moment to adjust before she sprang the Big Fucking News on him.

He took a swig of the coffee and then yawned hugely, his whole face scrunching up in a way that would be hetero-adorable, if she didn’t know that Bucky was dedicated to the gay.  “Okay, I’m here.  Who d’y’want me to see?”

“I think you should be sitting down, boss.”

“I am – oh, no, I’m not.  Sorry.  I really shouldn’t be here today, Darce, so this better be good.”

“Good.  Well, I guess that depends on how you define ‘good’.  It’s something, anyway.”

Bucky had eased himself into his chair, and now he looked up at her with a squinty frown.  “Either the anticipation or the hangover is going to kill me, so you might as well give it your best shot.”

  
“Okay.  So I know this is a tough day for you.”

Bucky threw himself back in his swivel chair, and leaned back so it nearly lifted off the front two legs. He shifted side to side idly.  “For us all, Darce.  For us all.  We all lost someone important two years ago today.”

“Yeah.  We did.  But you and Steve … what you had was squad goals, y’know?  One look at the two of you, and the rest of us have FIS.”

“FIS?” Bucky asked, pausing in his nervous movements to level a bleary eye at her.

“Friendship Inadequacy Syndrome.  It’s not a real thing but it totally should be.”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed dully, going back to shifting back and forth.

“So, um, yeah.  There’s that.”

“Well, that makes everything crystal clear, Darce.  What’s this about a person you wanted me to meet?”

Suddenly, there was the sound of knuckles rapping tentatively on the window set in the door, and the soft rasp of the door opening.

“Hey, Buck.  Look, Darcy, why are you keeping me in the conference room?  Why can’t I just go into my office?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his mouth gaped open as he stared at Steve Rogers standing in his doorway, wearing the suit he’d been buried in two years ago, before his chair tipped over and he fell head first against the filing cabinet.

With a squawk, Darcy leapt off the edge of the desk and hurried around to check on Bucky, but he was out cold, and there was blood trickling onto the upholstery of his chair.

“Don’t just stand there, you imposter!  Help me get him up – he’s probably going to need stitches!”

&&&

“I told you to wait in the conference room!”

“Last I checked, I’m the guy who signs your paycheck, Darcy Lewis, so I’m not entirely clear on how you got to be boss around here.”

“Please.  I was always boss even when you were – um, I mean, uh –”

“Look, something’s really bothering you, Darcy.  You know we operate on zero tolerance for anything that makes you feel less than, so, please, tell me what’s bothering you and I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of it –”

“Yeah, that’s really kinda complicated.  I’m not really sure you can –”

“But why?  Have _I_ done something to upset you?  Darcy, you’re really starting to freak me out here –”

“I’m starting to freak you out?  You waltz in here, all …. _you!_ … and you expect me to be calm?

“Y-yes?  I mean, Darcy, I don’t get it.  Why are you acting this way?  I just saw you yesterday –”

“That’s it, dude.  I didn’t see _you_ yesterday.  I haven’t seen you for two years.  Not since you –”  


“Since I _what_ , Darcy?  You’re scaring me –”

“Not since you _died_ , Steve.  We buried you in that suit,” Bucky explained with a calm that was preternatural.  While Steve and Darcy had been arguing, Bucky had come to, and gotten wobbily to his feet.  He’d silently crossed the conference room, and now he stood before Steve, his face a blank as he reached forward and plucked an envelope from the breast pocket of Steve’s suit.

“Buck?” Steve asked as Darcy did the same.

“I put this in your pocket, in your coffin, Steve.  Two years ago.  You’ve been dead for two years.  As of today.  This is impossible.”   His gaze centered on the envelope as he turned from side to side, pinched between thumb and forefinger.  “But no one knew about this.  I waited until the room cleared out, and I snuck in to put this in your pocket.  Even Tony didn’t know.  The undertaker, he knew I wanted to put something in with you, but he didn’t know what.  Right after I closed the casket, he locked it down, and we were off to the cemetery.  So … this is still here, still sealed.  So you have to be real.  This isn’t a gag.”

“What’s in the envelope, Buck?  Let me read it –” Steve went to grab it, but Bucky snatched it back.

“No.  If you’re really alive, you don’t get to read this.  This was for your afterlife.  Did you read it in your afterlife?”

“I don’t remember any afterlife.  I don’t remember –” Steve frowned, rubbing his forehead absently with his left hand, while his right drifted to rest over his heart.  “I … my heart … I was in the hospital.  You were there with me.  You held my hand.  I was so scared.  But when you were there, not so much.  Tony was … Tony!  Oh my God, Tony – he must be devastated.  I’ve got to get to him, Buck.  You can’t drive – you should be at the hospital.  Can I borrow your car, I’ll take you to the hospital and then I’ve got to see Tony –”

“Steve, Steve, Steve-o!  Settle down.  Tony’ll keep.  I agree, let’s get the Buckster to the doc’s so we know he’s not gonna turn into a brain-eating zombie –” Bucky threw Darcy a dark look, and Darcy realized that she was projecting her fears of Steve being a brain-eating zombie onto Bucky, because who came back from the dead and wasn’t a brain-eating zombie?  Of course it would be Steve, all around nice guy, help you move, hold your hair back while you puke, husband cheated on him but still took him back, Steve – “and yeah, get him checked out.”

“I need to see Tony.  Darcy, I need to see Tony.  If what you’re telling me is true, if I’ve been dead for two years, I can’t imagine what he’s been going through.  The sooner I can tell him I’m here, I’m okay, I’m back –”

So, either selective memory, or Steve really was too good to be true, and Tony Fucking Cheater Stark didn’t deserve his fine ass. 

Well, everyone agreed that Tony never deserved Steve’s fine ass, but Steve had loved him with all he had.  It just hadn’t been enough to keep Tony from looking elsewhere for entertainment.

But, the earnest, pleading look on Steve’s face was enough to melt the hardest of hearts, and Darcy definitely wasn’t hard-hearted.  She slumped in defeat and waved her hands helplessly.  “Buck?”

“Fine, we’ll go.  You’re driving, Darcy.  Steve’s license has been invalid for two years,” Bucky announced flatly and in a tone that allowed for no argument.  “You need to see Tony, you’re gonna see Tony.  See for yourself.”

&&&

They arrived at the gates of the Stark compound an hour later, and Darcy pulled up to the communications console and shouted into it, “Bucky Barnes to see Tony Stark, please.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lewis.  Could you please state the purpose of your visit?” answered the urbane tones of Stark’s AI, Jarvis.

“Um …”

“Smooth move, Darce.  Hey, J, I need to go over some stuff from Steve’s files that we just found.  I don’t want to make any decisions until I talk to Tony,” Bucky called from the passenger seat, waving at Steve in the back seat to stay quiet.

There was a momentary silence where Bucky and Darcy looked at each other nervously, and then Jarvis responded genially, “Of course, Mr. Barnes.  Sir will meet you in the sun room after you bring your car around.”  There was a beat, and then Jarvis added, “Is there a reason why you have not mentioned Master Steve?  May I say I am quite happy to have you returned to us, Master Steve.  It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Uh, J, it’s a surprise, okay?” Bucky answered, as Steve waved and muttered a, “Hi J,” to the AI.

“Of course, sir.  Welcome home, Sir.”

“Thanks, J!” Darcy caroled, thumbed the window control to roll it back, and guided the car through the electronically controlled gates that swung open for her.

“Why didn’t you tell Jarvis to tell Tony I’m here?” Steve spluttered suddenly.  “Why’d you try to keep it a secret from Jarvis?”

“Because Tony, like everyone else in the world, believes you’re dead, Steve.  Whatever’s happening here, no one needs to hear it over the fucking intercom.”

Only slightly mollified, Steve closed his mouth with a grimace and nodded once, folding his arms over his chest and sliding down in the back seat.  “I suppose you don’t want anyone to see me.”

“That would be good.  We’ll go through the private entrance, so none of the staff see you.  Let’s get the worst over, and go from there,” Bucky told him gently, glancing toward Darcy, who was mouthing, “oh my God,” over and over again.

&&&

They’d pulled up to the gate to the garden off the morning room, and Bucky called out to Jarvis to let him know they would be entering the house through that entrance.

“I take it we are still keeping Master Steve a secret from Sir, Mr. Barnes?”

“Yes we are, J.  You do understand where Master Steve has been the past two years, don’t you, J?”

“Decommissioned, sir.  I am gratified that he has been rebooted, however.  I look forward to resuming our conversations about art, Master Steve.  My education has been sadly lacking the past two years.”

“Decommissioned,” Bucky muttered under his breath.  “Jarvis doesn’t understand the concept of death,” he added disbelievingly.

“Oh, I understand, Mr. Barnes.  But clearly something extraordinary has occurred, because my scans confirm that Master Steve is most definitely not dead.  In fact, he’s healthier than ever before -”

“Yeah, yeah, J, open the door, huh?” Bucky asked as he jiggled the door handle to the French doors separating the garden from the morning room.  The AI stopped talking with what could almost be an electronic huff, and the lock clicked open.

&&&

They’d only been cooling their heels in the morning room – bright, cheery room with floor to ceiling windows on the garden wall, and an eclectic collection of art arranged gracefully on the dove gray walls.  Steve walked around the room with his arms wrapped around his torso tensely, studying the art and glaring at it.

“What’s up with him?” Darcy asked, nudging Bucky with an elbow to the ribs and jutting her chin up at where Steve wandered morosely around the beautiful room.

Bucky sighed heavily, his face drawn with sadness.  “This used to be his gallery.  Floor to ceiling, all Steve’s stuff.  Tony took down all his art after the funeral.  Actually, he was blind drunk and getting ready to punch holes through every fucking piece, but Pepper and I talked him down.  I’ve got everything at my place.”  He scrubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, and shrugged.  “Steve, Steve it’s okay.  I’ve got everything in storage, it’s all safe.”

“It’s like I never existed.  This was my favorite room.  I had my favorite pieces on this wall,” he waved toward the long, unbroken space.  He pointed to the corner by the window, and said, “My chair, my lamp – the one I got in college, remember? – that sat over there.  And my Mom’s afghan – Buck, I’ve had that since I was little, and it’s just gone –”

Bucky made a wounded noise and crossed the space to grab Steve’s hands in his own.  “It’s not gone.  I have it.  I have your back, Steve.  I’ll always have your back –”

Tony came in then, saying, “Whatever this is, it better be good!”  
  
“Tony?” Steve said breathlessly, pulling away from Bucky’s hands and turning toward him, taking a stumbling step forward.  
  
Tony stopped and glared at the two of them, his body suddenly frozen, taut like pulled bowstring.  Fury rolled off him like summer heat.  “You're a fucking bastard, Barnes.  Today of all days?  You already got everything that was Steve's.  There's nothing more –”  
  
“Tony, baby -”  
  
“Stay right there, beautiful man who looks too much like my ex-husband.  My dead ex-husband.”  


“Your _husband_ , Tony.  We weren't divorced.”  
  
“Not yet, anyway.  Just a matter of time before Steve gave up on my cheating ass.  I didn't deserve him, but I don't deserve this, whatever this is –“

  
Jarvis jumped into the discussion with a hint of a huff.  “This _is_ Master Steve, Sir.  His DNA matches the code I have on file for Other Sir. There are minor –”  
  
“Cho!  Get me Doctor Cho.  Tell her to come up to the main house now, J.” To Steve, he said, “This isn't possible.  Steve died.  I wasn't there – cheating ass, after all – but I had Cho confirm.  And harvest enough tissue that I could ... well, it looks like someone has.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Cloned him.  That's the only answer.  Someone cloned Steve.  You're a copy, not the original.  My Steve was one of a kind -”  
  
“Tony, whose car is by the garden gate?  Is that Bucky?  We really should have him over for dinner –”  
  
Pepper Potts came into the room then, the excited glint in her eyes fading as soon as she saw Steve, her expression morphing from eager anticipation to stunned stupor.  
  
“Tony?” she asked in a small voice, her slender fingers curling over his shoulder as she drew close to him.  Not possessively.  _Protectively_.  
  
And that's when Steve noticed.  The wedding band on Tony's hand wasn't the one Steve had placed there on their wedding day.  
  
It was a different band.  
  
And Pepper was wearing a matching ring, scaled beautifully for her long, slender fingers.  
  
The gutteral voice that wrenched out of Steve was unlike anything any of them had heard before, drenched in pain and desperation.  
  
“How long?”  


“How long, what?  Since my husband died?  Two years.  To the day.”  


“No.  How long,” he repeated, looking pointedly at the ring on Tony's finger.  
  
“Never during your lifetime.  Er, Steve's lifetime.  I wouldn't – ” Pepper replied.  
  
“ _You_ wouldn't.  I'm remembering more and more now.  You're right, Tony.  Divorce was in our future.  You couldn't keep your dick to yourself.  I was dying, and you never came to visit me.”  
  
“You had Barnes there to hold your hand.  Best friends since childhood.  Inseparable in the schoolyard and where else, hmmm?  Bedroom, maybe?”  


“ _I_ never cheated on you, Tony.  Not once.  Not ever.  I meant my vows to you.”  
  
“We've been over this before, Stark.  You couldn't cope with Steve dying, so you hid in a bottle, for six fucking months.  But that didn't mean Steve had to be alone while you couldn't find your big boy pants.  C'mon, Steve.  Let's go.”  
  
“Go where?  This is my home.   My things –”  
  
“I gave to Barnes.  _Everything_.  I ... he's right, I crawled into a bottle and didn't come out until after you were gone.  I couldn't face it.  Losing you ... it killed me –”  
  
“You look pretty good for a corpse,” Steve snarled.  
  
“So do you.  J, where is Cho?”  
  
“Dr. Cho is just entering the residence, Sir.  I am directing her to the morning room now.”

&&&  
  
Dr. Helen Cho had a medical suite in the house now, and gently guided Steve, with Bucky and Darcy trailing behind, to the suite so she could examine Steve.  Jarvis allowed Tony and Pepper to observe from the morning room where Tony’s hands shook with nerves, and Pepper’s nerves sang with anxiety.  So much could fall apart so quickly.

Helen verified the DNA match, confirming Jarvis’s assessment.  More interestingly, she also noted that Steve's ailments, such as his damaged heart, seemed to have repaired themselves.  
  
She told Steve that she wanted to believe that he was really the Steve Rogers she knew and admired.  The fact that he was 100% healthy made it difficult to believe.  Instead, it seemed to bear out Tony’s clone theory more than negate it.

“Is it any more difficult to believe than resurrection?  I don’t know how it happened, but that’s what has happened.  I’ve returned from the dead, Helen.  I remember dying. I remember … I remember feeling so disappointed.  That Tony couldn’t face that with me.  That he was probably off fucking someone else rather than holding my hand while I passed away.  Buck was there.  Buck held my hand the whole time, telling stories from when we were kids, growing up, starting the company together.  Trying to make me smile, keep my spirits up.  Make me laugh, even on the ventilator.  Make dying easier.  The last thing I remember is Bucky’s voice, chuckling over a story about me and, um, oh, that asshole who had it in for me in college.  Brock Rumlow.  He used to lay in wait for me to beat me up.  This was before, you know, before I got better, grew.  So Buck and me, we came up with this hair-brained scheme to trick Rumlow into threatening me in front of the faculty.  And it worked.  I could hear the tears inside his laughter, and I remember thinking, Thank you, God, for letting me have Bucky Barnes as my best friend.  Take care of him when I’m gone – he’s the best thing you ever made.”

Steve didn’t add that that he’d wished that he’d fallen in love with Bucky instead of Tony, because Bucky was everything he could want in a husband and then some.

Steve didn’t mention this because he heard a gasping sob, and turned to find Bucky standing there.

“I take it from your reaction that Steve’s account is accurate?” Helen prompted.

“Hundred per cent.  I was telling that stupid story when I felt his hand tighten around mine and then go slack.  And the monitor started to wail.  That was … that was the hardest fucking moment of my life.  Until the funeral.  And then the day I went back to the office … tell me he’s okay, Doc.  Tell me we’re not gonna go through that again.”

“Right now, that’s exactly what I can tell you.  Steve is in perfect health.  And I do mean perfect.  Every abnormality, every ailment gone.  Steve, open your mouth for me, would you?”  Steve complied, and Helen used the tongue depressor to look inside.  “And yet your dental work is intact.”

“Maybe whatever fixed me can’t replace inorganic material?”

“I want to do a scan on your teeth so I can compare it to your dental charts.”

“So you believe I’m me.”

“The evidence is mounting, yes.”

“So it’s true, then?” Pepper asked from the entryway.  “This is really Steve Rogers, back from the dead?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Tony and I are married now.  You’re legally dead.”

“Um, yeah?  So … what now?”

“You can’t stay here.  Not because I’m trying to take your place, Steve.  Tony is freaking out, and if you stay here, I’m afraid he’d going to go off the wagon, spectacularly and explosively.  I can arrange for a hotel, charge everything to Stark Industries.  While we sort this out.”

Bucky stepped up, nodding grimly.  “Steve can stay with me.  All his stuff is at my place anyway.”

“Yes.  That would be good.  Steve you need to understand that Tony didn’t cope with losing you very well.  Not at all really.  He became even more self-destructive.  And then he started to go after your things.  James and I managed to get everything out of here before Tony did any real damage.  James was kind enough to give it all a home.  I never intended to erase you.  But I had to do something before Tony went too far.”

“You’re not angry I’m back.”

“No!  I feel terrible though.  Even though you’re back, your marriage to Tony is over.  And not just because I’m married to him now.  He had to let go in order to survive.  And let’s face it, he was never in a healthy place when you were married.”

“My marriage to Tony died before I did, Pep.  I just didn’t realize it at the time.  He hurt me more than I ever thought possible those last months, but I still kept hoping my husband would come and be with me, to help me face the end.  But, he just couldn’t,” Steve shook his head, teeth biting deeply into his lower lip, holding back tears that shimmered in his eyes.

Pepper laid a gentle and supportive hand on his arm.  “I know.  I tried to get him to go see you every day, but the longer he stayed away, the more impossible he thought it was to go.  I think he somehow convinced himself that if he didn’t see you, you wouldn’t die.  I don’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for treating you so badly, Steve.”

“I’m not sure I can forgive him, either, Pep.  Why on earth did you marry him, knowing him the way you did?”

“I don’t know.  I saw something in the weeks and months after you were gone.  Someone that I think Tony has kept buried for so long, and so deep, that even he had forgotten that he could be a decent, loving human being.  The man that you fell in love with, perhaps.  I don’t know if we’re going to last, Steve.  But right now, I still see glimpses of that man.  And I’m fighting to keep him.”

Steve nodded, his tongue swiping slowly over his lower lip as he took in Pepper’s comments.  “Yeah.  The real Tony is in there somewhere.  I don’t understand why he tries to drown him in booze.  Why he buries him in shame.”

“I’ve been trying to get him into therapy.  Maybe your return will be the thing that finally lights a fire under his ass.”

“So, in the meantime …?” Bucky prompted.

“In the meantime, we need to ensure Steve’s safety.   Helen, we’re going to need a plausible story here.  Cryogenic suspension until you discovered a way to repair the damage to Steve.  It’s specific to his DNA, can’t be replicated for anyone else.  Tony believed you were really dead, didn’t believe that Helen could fix you.  Can you work with that, Helen?”

“I think so.  I’ll come up with something.”

“I’ll put Jarvis on resurrecting you electronically – Social Security, IRS, DMV, the whole alphabet soup.”

“Okay.”

“You just need to lay low until we get this organized.  Can you do that for me, Steve?”

“He can,” Bucky answered, laying his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezing gently.  “I’ll help.”

“Thank you, James.  You’ve been such a good friend to us all.”

&&&

When they got to Bucky’s house, they found Wanda and Natasha waiting there, looking unusually comfortable in sweats and t-shirts, cuddled together on Bucky’s big sectional couch.

“Rogers,” Natasha greeted sotto voce, her raised, barbelled eyebrow the only hint that she saw anything amiss.

“Romanoff,” Steve greeted right back, his own eyebrow pointing skyward. 

Wanda just stared into the frothy drink she was holding between her hands, as Natasha toyed absently with her hair.  “Darling, aren’t you going to say something?” Natasha prodded, nudging her elbow against Wanda’s back.

She looked up, her kohled eyes shadowed under drawn eyebrows.  “Steve.  You’re here.”

“Yeah.  Not sure how, but I’m here.”

“You remember.”

“Dying?  Mostly.  Yeah.  How I got here?  I haven’t a clue.  You guys know something about that?”

Wanda went back to staring at her mug, blowing softly, deliberately ignoring Steve as Natasha turned her attention away from him and nibbled pointedly at Wanda’s ear.

“Girls, be nice.  Steve is going to be staying with us for a while.”

The tightening of Wanda’s hands on her mug gave her away immediately, and Steve took a further step into the room, peering curiously at the women just about making out on the couch.  Then he turned toward Bucky, his stance suddenly combative as he demanded, “Buck, why are there two lesbians living in your house?”

Natasha straightened from where she was ravaging Wanda’s neck, smoothing her hand down the damp flesh and settling Wanda’s hair back in place.  “Because when you died, James … let’s just say he needed help to get through the basics of living.  Also, we’re both pansexual.”

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m as surprised as anyone.  I just know where you came from.”

“No, we _don’t_.  We never expected it to work,” Wanda protested to Natasha, then squeaked as she realized the men had heard her.  Her attention dive-bombed into her mug again.

“You didn’t?” Bucky demanded, coming up behind Steve.

“No!” Natasha scoffed.  “We just thought it might distract you, let you feel like you were doing something, maybe get it a little out of your system.  Bucky, we got the spell off the Internet.  Internet spells don’t really work!  They’re for the soccer moms who want to convince themselves they’re edgy and wiccan.  A real working spell would come from a witch’s grimoire, or a family spellbook.”

“Which means some witch somewhere in the world posted real magic on the Bewitched forum,” Bucky pointed out.

Wanda looked up in horror, her eyes widening almost comically as her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.  Then she squeaked again, and announced, “We need to track that person down.  They need to know how dangerous that is!”

&&&


	2. A Trifle Weary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the newly resurrected Steve Rogers and his lifelong friend Bucky Barnes reconnect, while Wiccans Wanda and Natasha search for the source of the magic that brought Steve back.
> 
> A new chapter posted in one of my WIPs in honor of my upcoming participation as a creator in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction - https://fandomtrumpshate.dreamwidth.org/.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s been nearly two years since I last updated this! Wow, time really has gone by fast.
> 
> So, earlier this week two things happened - one was a critical element that made this chapter work finally (just like something happened in It Takes a Village), and two is my upcoming participation in Fandom Trumps Hate. I don’t have the money this year to pledge like I have in the past, so I’m offering writing services for three (3) Stucky stories. I’d love it if my AO3 followers (and Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Dreamwidth, Pillowfort, and Hubzilla) would consider bidding in support of the amazing charities curated by Fandom Trumps Hate this year.
> 
> Anyway, now that this chapter is written, more of what’s to come has sort of slid into place. I won’t promise I’ll update immediately, as I’ve more WIPs to update, and a Stucky AU Big Bang story to finish (and two to illustrate!), but this story is back on track.
> 
> So, please enjoy, and let me know what you think. And don’t forget about Fandom Trumps Hate, coming at the end of February 2019.

Yet we get a trifle weary   
With Mr. Einstein's theory.   
So we must get down to earth at times   
Relax relieve the tension   
  
Wanda and Nat had retired to their room, heads together over their tablet while they trolled the Internet for answers.   
  
That left Steve and Bucky alone in the living room, each feeling shell shocked in his own way, lost and yet somehow found.   
  
At least that’s how Bucky felt.  The past two years without Steve had been the most difficult years of Bucky’s life.  There had been times when he couldn’t breathe, when he thought he’d never be able to breathe again, and worse, that there was no point to it.  That if he stopped breathing, he might be able to rejoin Steve wherever it was the angels took him, and that was a better future than one where Steve just ... wasn’t.   
  
But that wasn’t what he’d promised Steve, and so he’d stuck the landing, pushing himself through each day, keeping the company going, finding a way to make it work without the creative juice that Steve brought to it all.  Keep the team together, keep the dream somehow alive.   
  
But every day had been a struggle.  Every day had been an impossible win.  A win in Steve’s name, even if Bucky’s heart wasn’t in it.   
  
And now he was here, whole, real, healthy.  It was everything he’d ever wanted for Steve, everything he’d ever wanted for them both.  Well, maybe more. He wanted Steve to be happy, too. Because if Steve was happy, then Bucky could be, too.  But the thing with Tony ...   
  
“You okay?” he asked gently, his hand hovering over Steve’s shoulder, wanting to touch, reassure, soothe.  Touch had been so casual between them before, instinctive and quick. He remembered the feel of Steve’s hand in his as his heart stopped beating, blood stopped circulating.  The indefinable change that signaled the soul had left the body. Without thinking, he dropped his hand and sought out Steve’s, thrilling to warmth, the living tension, the pulse and the gentle throb of blood flowing.  He felt something uncoil inside him, felt the breath he’d been holding let go, nearly sobbed with the release he felt.   
  
It really was true.   
  
Steve was alive.   
  
And as Steve’s hand squeezed his back, Bucky leaned into his side and rested his head on his shoulder.   
  
“I missed you,” he whispered in a voice raw and painful.   
  
“I’m so lucky to have you as my friend, Buck.  You make everything easier.”   
  
“That’s my job, punk.”   
  
“It’s really not, but I appreciate it anyway, jerk.  Now, tell me everything. What’s been happening while I’ve been gone?”   
  
&&&   
  
As Steve’s illnesses had advanced, he’d had to give up more and more “vices.”  He’d hated giving up beer, but it had been doctor’s orders. Multiple doctors. No more alcohol for his failing heart, his damaged lungs, his overworked endocrine system, his dying body.  And drinking had become a weapon of choice in the Stark-Rogers household, wielded with surgical precision and indiscriminate violence so even the pleasure associated with it had faded by the time Steve was facing his own mortality.   
  
Now, resurrected in his perfect body, absent any and all defects that had cost him his last life, Steve was eager to test his limits, learn his limitations, and hopefully discover that he could at last be normal.   
  
But fate, the universe, whatever, still had it in for him.   
  
He could drink with impunity.  No ill effects. No buzz, either.  No reaction at all.   
  
“Maybe it’s a temporary thing.  You know - until you shake out the kinks in your new body.”   
  
“Or maybe it’s because I’m not natural,” Steve answered morosely. “Maybe this is the price of coming back.”   
  
“Or maybe it’s because your body works so efficiently now, you metabolize the alcohol so fast, you can’t get drunk.”   
  
“That sounds nice, Buck.  But I just wanted ... I wanted to get a buzz on.  It’s been so long.”   
  
Bucky grinned slyly at him, holding up a drunken finger while he rummaged around under the coffee table.  “Wanda thinks I don’t know where her stash is, but I do. This is good stuff - lemme tell ya, Wiccans really know how to grow weed.”   
  
“Wanda grows weed?”   
  
“Nah.  But somebody else in their coven does.  It’s fucking great. Try this,” Bucky shoved a fat joint at Steve, and waved a lighter in his general direction.   
  
Unlike Steve, Bucky was well on his way to drunk.  And still he was trying to make Steve feel better, taking care of him like he had his whole life.     
  
A life that would have ended so much sooner if Bucky Barnes hadn’t been in it.  A life that would have been so much emptier if Bucky Barnes hadn’t been in it.   
  
A life that would have been so much lonelier and loveless if Bucky Barnes hadn’t been in it.   
  
As Steve took the joint and lit it, drawing the smoke in and letting it settle before blowing it out again, he felt something shift, something profound and real, like it had finally found the right place, the right spot.   
  
Warmth, like the way he remembered alcohol, suffused through him from his core out.  It wasn’t the pot. It was something he’d only felt once before, but a pale, thin imitation of what he felt now.   
  
Buck’s head had settled back on his shoulder, and his friend snuggled close, his arms wrapped around Steve’s.  He could feel Bucky relaxing, giving in to sleep.    
  
He turned and brushed his lips against the crown of Bucky’s head, feeling the softness of his hair, smelling the sweet, clean fragrance of his shampoo.  Reveling in the warmth that was Bucky Barnes.   
  
And Steve Rogers surrendered himself to a truth that he’d ignored for far too long.   
  
Tony had been right.  There had been more between Steve and Bucky than Steve had admitted to, even to himself.   
  
Steve had loved Tony Stark, had meant his vows and honored them.   
  
But deep inside, he’d harbored a secret, even from himself.   
  
He loved Bucky Barnes more.   
  
&&&   
  
Wanda gnawed angrily at her thumbnail while balancing the tablet on her knees.  Natasha was wound round her, willing positive energy to her beloved. It wasn’t helping.   
  
“There’s a grimoire out there.  A powerful one. Old. Dangerous.”   
  
“I know, sweetie.  You know it’s not your responsibility to track it down.  It could be dangerous to you. And I can’t allow that.”   
  
“It is our responsibility.  We figured it out. We used its magic.  Goddess knows what we’ve unleashed. Magic that powerful comes with a price.  You know it, Nat.”   
  
“Yeah.  I do. I just don’t want to believe it.  When was the last time you saw James happy?”   
  
“That happy?  Never. He always tried to be happy for Steve when he was with Stark, but you know his heart was always breaking.  But now ... oh my Goddess, Nat. We have to protect Bucky at all costs. We have to know what the backlash from the spell will be.”   
  
“All right. I think we need to call in the big guns.”   
  
“No.”   
  
“Yes, baby.  It’s time to call Pietro and put him to work.  We need a master hacker to track our unknown sorcerer down.”   
  
&&&   
  
An hour later, Wanda Maximoff poked her head out of the bedroom she shared with Natasha, and scanned the living room.  The lights were still on, and she could smell the sweet scent of pot lingering in the air - huh, she didn’t know that Bucky liked to indulge.  That gave her an idea for Christmas - but she was digressing in her own mind. She spied them on the couch, and her heart clenched. Natasha was right - there was something new and glowing about Bucky now that Steve was back.  She could see it in his aura, shimmering with new radiance around him.   
  
And Steve.  Steve’s aura was beautiful.  He was half laying on the couch, sort of canted over to one side, Bucky curled into his side, his head resting on Steve’s chest.  it was a touching, sweet domestic scene.   
  
In that moment, she felt it was Goddess-touched, that the universe wanted these two souls to be together.  But she couldn’t help but feel there was something lurking at the edge of their awareness that would threaten this fragile, perfect moment.     
  
She wanted happiness for Bucky.  He’d been nothing but kind to her and to her brother. He’d given them both a home when they’d arrived here from Sokovia.  He’d helped them get settled and get started in this new country, helped them find jobs, fill out paperwork, find themselves.  He’d introduced her to Natasha, and for that alone she’d be eternally grateful.   
  
So when she looked at him and saw the years slip away, his face smooth and unbothered, a half smile on his face as he snuggled against Steve’s chest ... this had to be real.  They needed to be sure that nothing had come through with Steve, that Steve was here to stay. Because she knew that Bucky Barnes would not survive losing Steve Rogers a second time.   
  
A soft knock on the front door reminded her why she’d come out of their room.  She crossed the living room quickly and let in her brother, holding a finger to her lips to indicate he should remain silent.   
  
“That’s never Steve -“ he breathed, catching sight of the big blonde man on the sofa with Bucky.   
  
She nodded.  “Nat and I made real magic.  Now we need to track it back to the source,” she said softly.   
  
He patted the bag slung over his torso.  “Lead the way.”   
  
&&&   
  
The first thing Bucky was aware of was warmth, cradling and surrounding him.  He felt safe, at home, at peace in a way he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He felt loved.   
  
He smiled against the plush pillow beneath his face, bringing his hand up to rub under his nose.  It was then that he noticed the planes and dips of the “pillow” beneath his face. Not a pillow but abs and a glorious chest.     
  
And that’s when reality came slamming back, ricocheted around his skull, and left him blind with the pain of a hangover unlike anything he’d ever endured before.   
  
For the second day in a row, Bucky woke up to a pounding head and a sour stomach, the result of too much alcohol and not enough sense.   
  
But this morning, he woke up to something he’d only ever dreamed of before.  The feeling of Steve Rogers’s heart beating steadily, strongly. The sensation of Steve Rogers’s lungs breathing easily, normally.  The warmth and pressure of Steve’s arms around him, holding him like he was something special, something precious.   
  
Bucky opened one eye slowly, expecting to see the rise and fall of that miraculous chest, only to find himself looking a Pietro Maximoff glowering at him from where he sat on the coffee tale, hands held loosely in front of him as he seemed to study Bucky.   
  
“Ah, you’re awake.  Good. Natasha said to take this and drink water.  I would do as she says. She may be fucking my sister, but she scares me.”   
  
&&&   
  
Steve had stirred when Bucky extricated himself - reluctantly, he had to admit - from Steve’s embrace to take the painkillers and water.  But he’d smacked his lips a couple of times, half rolled over, and gone back to sleep.    
  
Bucky had quelled the urge to lean forward and press his lips against Steve’s, to burrow back down into his arms, and forget the outside world existed.   
  
Instead, he sat on the floor in Nat and Wanda’s room, listening to Wanda hold forth on why it was imperative that she and Nat travel cross country to New York City that very day.   
  
“I will go, too,” Pietro announced after Wanda had finished.   
  
“Why,” Nat asked, her voice flat.   
  
“I am pretty sure I have the address pinpointed.  But if not, you will need me there to recalibrate.”   
  
“And you’re sure this guy is responsible for posting the spell,” Bucky asked, wincing as pain lanced through his skull.   
  
“I traced the entry to his IP address, so odds are good.  Maybe someone else in his house, maybe someone leaching his internet.  But someone there posted that spell. And you see how worried Wanda is -“   
  
“Fine.  Book the flight.  I’ll pay for the tickets.”   
  
“I don’t like leaving you alone,” Nat said.   
  
“I’m not alone.  Steve’s here.”   
  
“I meant with Steve.”   
  
“Not you, too.  Darcy’s convinced he’s going to turn into a brain-eating zombie.  He’s not. He’s Steve. And he’s whole and healthy and -“   
  
“And you’re still not going to tell him the truth, are you?”   
  
“What truth?”   
  
“That you’re in love with him.  That you always have been.”   
  
Buck crossed his arms across his chest and hugged himself a little.  “What makes you say that?”   
  
“I am known for being oblivious, and even i see that,” Pietro answered flippantly.  “The pair of you!”   
  
“Nah, I’m not in love with Steve.  I love him like a brother. More. But no, not in love.”   
  
“In denial, yes.  In love, also yes.”   
  
“Book your flight.  I’ll take you to the airport.  I’m gonna hop in the shower now.”   
  
As Bucky lumbered to his feet and shuffled off to the bathroom, he heard Pietro ask, “Does he really not know?”   
  
Bucky shook his head.  He had no idea what Pietro was on about, but he knew one thing.  He was one lucky bastard to have his best friend back. The jury was still out about Nat, Wanda, and Pietro, though ...   
  
&&&   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! And don’t forget Fandom Trumps Hate!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your comments are so important! I hope you enjoy what I've presented so far. Look for an update to By Royal Decree in the near future, and much, much more to come!
> 
> The chapter titles and lyrics come from the great classic, As Time Goes By, music and words by Herman Hupfeld.


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